Chapter Text
Seasons come. Seasons go. Gilmith’s hair turns white, old age finally catching up with her. Maglor’s hair stays black. He remains with her until the end, a discreet presence held by her request.
Gilmith dies as the sun rises over Dol Amroth, painting sea and sky in brilliant colours. Maglor, who cradled her in his arms over the past hours to ease her breathing, gently puts her down. The low sounds of the lullaby he was humming cease.
Maglor leaves. The rest belongs to Gilmith’s mortal relatives. A fresh grief blossoms alongside ancient pain, as he walks on in sunlight.